


masterpiece theatres

by solsticeScriptures



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, F/F, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:04:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9079732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solsticeScriptures/pseuds/solsticeScriptures
Summary: Footsteps sounded on the ground, growing louder the closer they came as she swallowed down the harsh liquid in her mouth again, burning her throat as it went down. As it grew closer, her frustration flared up inside, coupled with curiosity at who it was. It was probably Ell, since she wouldn’t stop worrying about her whenever she went off by herself to drink in a sad little corner. 
  Pulling the flask from her lips, she glanced upwards, ready to give her green-hoodied friend the death stare of her life.
  Instead, her eyes came to rest upon a very pretty ginger, eyes widening upon noticing her glare. She looked nervous, hands clutching at a large bag hanging from her side as she took a step back upon noticing the intensity of the state.
  The first thing to shoot into Tamara’s mind was that she should probably stop glaring.The second thing to shoot into her mind was that the girl had freckles.
an alcoholic actress-musician meets a naive, runaway ginger. something more than friendship ensues.





	1. prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> so. hey!
> 
> this is my first fic in the eddsworld tag. to be honest, i was going to continue lurking here for pretty much the rest of my experience sort of being in the fandom because i'm really insecure in my writing skills, but then i came up with a story idea and slammed it with eddsworld (or more specifically, ellsworld) and boom. here we are.
> 
> the story's based off the masterpiece theatre album by marianas trench, although more specifically, masterpiece theatres i, ii and iii.
> 
> i hope you like it! (i'm pretty nervous posting this, especially since there may be slight ooc-ness due to it being my first time writing these characters. i hope i did them justice.)

The pungent smell of alcohol was faint, almost gone, but just barely there. Wrinkling her nose, she stepped down the hallway, walls occupied with stacked-up chairs and half-painted props propped up, leaning against the peeling paint.

Wooden floorboards creaked as she walked, the smell growing stronger the further she went down the pathway until at last, it reached a point where it was strong enough for her to locate its origin. Glancing from side to side, she noticed a door, labelled with words engraved on a plaque hanging from a nail that wasn’t even necessary at this point, because everything was dark and everyone knew where they were going. It was left ajar by whoever was in there, possibly raining down alcohol on their soul.

Probably who she was looking for then. Without hesitance, she pushed the door open, a creaking noise ringing out, awfully loud in the peaceful silence settled around her. Inside, dim lighting flooded the area, allowing her to just about see everything in the room. The cushy sofas, thick shadows casted over them, the coffee table just to the side of it, glass bottles strewn across it, trailing from the table down onto the floor-

Glass bottles. Eyes trailing upwards, it landed on a figure, splayed out across the entire sofa, one arm covering its face. The other arm, clothed in a colour that was barely recognisable in the lighting, swayed from the side, hanging off the sofa where it loosely grasped onto the thin neck of yet another familiar bottle.

The entire room  _ reeked. _

Sighing, she treaded towards the figure, feet landing lightly on the carpeted floor. As she got closer, she could hear something. Faint little groans, and what sounded like sobbing?

Bending down, she gathered up the few stray bottles on the floor, one tipped over, another one standing, but all empty save for the few bits of precious drink often left behind in the container that gathered at the very bottom. Putting them with the other bottles on the table, where she shoved them off to a neat little side, she decided to sit down on the table.

The wooden table wasn’t as comfortable as any of the cushioned seats, but it was the closest seat to her friend. Her friend, who was currently a mess.

Silence fell upon them, save for the occasional bout of noise from her friend. Peering at her in silence, she waited.

And waited.

For what exactly, she wasn’t sure. Just that the entire situation at the moment was delicate enough, and it wasn’t like she really knew what to say. She would have probably just kept on sitting there, hands picking with the strings of her green hoodie, listening to nothing except the occasional creak of wooden floorboards and the whining noises of the girl in front of her. Until said friend shifted, turning to lie on her side in order to face her, peeking out through the thick fabric of her usually-blue hoodie.

At this moment, she would have noticed her eyes. It would have been glistening somehow, or with her emotions reflected in them.

However, instead of wet eyes shining with hurt, she was greeted with nothing but an inky black.

A muffled whine sounded out, causing her to tilt her head in confusion. “What did you say?”

“I said, why are you here?” The words were slurred, thick with the confusion caused by alcohol and grief, as the girl shifted her arm off from her face, allowing her to understand what she was saying. “I don’t really, need anyone right now. Don’t want you around, you don’t have to bother, Ell,” she rambled on, paying little attention to her repeating words.

Sighing, Ell watched as her friend rolled back over to face the cushioned backseat of the sofa, muttering about how she should have “fucked off” and left her alone. Looking over her shoulder, she caught sight of the glass bottles of alcohol, all empty. Probably not all the bottles though, she realised, as she caught sight of glass shards scattered amongst the carpet and weird, dark patches where the pungent liquid had sunk into the fabric. If it wasn’t for the dim lighting in the room, it would have probably been impossible to see the sharp shards glinting. 

"You really need to stop doing this, Tamara.” The words weren’t meant to be harsh. Her tone was firm, yet gentle, as if she was slightly scared of hurting something, or triggering some sort of reaction. Either way, her words was met with a muffled whine behind a cushion of some sort. Sighing, her eyes drifted to the half-empty bottle of alcohol still clutched in the fingers of Tamara’s hand, resting on her side.

More of that could probably make it way worse. It wouldn’t kill her, but the last thing she wanted to deal with was a  _ lot  _ of puke and a very hungover Tamara.

Reaching out, she grabbed hold of the drunk’s wrist. After a brief struggle, she reached over, pulling out the half-empty bottle from the now-loosened grip of her friend. The liquid sloshed inside, tinted with the dim, warm lights of the room and the shadows of herself hovering over it as she brought it closer to examine further.

She grimaced. All this drinking really wasn’t a good way to cope.

Quiet mutters could just about be heard, although illegible. Glancing up from the bottle, Ell stared at Tamara’s backside as she shifted around on the sofa. More mumbling sounded out, still difficult to catch. The only words she could make out were apologies, the soft repetition of “I’m sorry” over and over.

Was she crying?

It wasn’t like she could tell. And yet, she could swear that she heard sniffling in-between the non-stop stream of useless words that didn’t make sense.

In a way, the fact that Tamara, known for being on the ruder, meaner side of things, constantly snapping at people and letting her anger get the better of herself even when she was upset, was  _ crying- _

_ How much did she have to drink?  _ Turning around, she counted the number of empty bottles on the table. Five of them. Including the half-empty bottle in her hand right now, and not counting the broken bottle from earlier that she caught on the floor-

That made it five and a half bottles of alcohol. While she was not in a very good state.

“I’m fucking  _ pathetic. _ ” Hearing the slurred words caused Ell to look up from the bottle of alcohol, eyes locking onto the scene in front of her. Tamara having shifted from staring into the back of the sofa to staring up, inky black eyes staring up into the ceiling, dim lighting doing nothing to hurt her eyes. Her voice was tired, words mushed up together, and yet, there was still hints of hatred in her tone.

Self-hatred.

" I just let him  _ die. _ ” The last word was forced out, almost like she was choking on it. Guilt crept into Ell’s feelings, forcing her to think of something to say,  _ anything  _ that could possibly make the drunk girl in front of her feel better.

“It wasn’t your fault-“

Before she could even finish her sentence, Tamara interrupted with a hiss. “Don’t fucking say that,” she spat violently, anger lighting up in her. “Don’t you  _ dare  _ say that it wasn’t my fault.”

“But you couldn’t have stopped him from what he did!” Desperation finally seeped into her tone as Ell stared at the alcoholic in front of her, the way she blankly gazed at the ceiling while mourning in a pit of self-deprecation. “You didn’t know what he was going to do – none of us did! It really wasn’t your fault in the end.”

“That’s not the point.” Tamara’s reply was flat in tone, as she glanced to the side, catching sight of Ell, still sitting on the coffee table watching her. “It’s the fact that I was his  _ sister.  _ You’d think I’d be able to stop him but guess what? He’s fucking dead, and I’m drinking myself to fucking death.”

She ended up speechless. As Tamara’s words began to drift off into incoherent mumblings, growing softer in tone as time dragged on, Ell glanced back down at the bottle in her hand. Silence settled in the room once more, as words became softer, almost whispers that weren’t legible anymore.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” she said, barely breaking the silence. The only reply she got was a soft moan from the drunk in front of her, as Ell shifted to place the glass bottle with the empty ones, making a mental note to come back later to clean it up.

The liquid in the bottle sloshed around upon thudding onto the wooden table. Standing up from the coffee table, Ell made her way over to Tamara, who had gone back to covering up half her face with the thick fabric of a hoodie sleeve on her arm. She hauled her up from the sofa, pulling her friend off the cushioned couch. There, she wrapped the drunk’s arm around her shoulder as Tamara was draped against her back, ignoring the way that she protested, words slurring together to become an illegible whine. Though Ell was pretty certain what she was whining about – that she was being forcibly hauled out of the room and away from all the alcohol she kept on chugging.

Lugging her friend along with her, the duo left the room, leaving the door ajar behind them as they hobbled their way down the corridor she had came from originally, headed towards a flight of stairs.

Now, dragging Tamara upstairs was a difficult process. After all, her friend had fallen asleep while they were both tripping their way down the corridor. Gritting her teeth, Ell stepped onto the first step, then the next, somehow managing to pull her friend up with her.

As they rounded the corner to climb the second half of the staircase, Tamara slammed into the wall, causing a loud noise to sound out. Wincing, Ell dragged her from the nearby wall, making the final stretch upwards.

She was greeted with dim lighting in a narrow corridor upon reaching her destination. Silently, Ell thanked the fact that Tamara lived on the second floor, even if it was at the furthest possible corner of the corridor. Said corridor was one that she was pulling said resident along, the light growing dimmer as they went along, footsteps creaking on the wooden floor.

The last door at the very end of the corridor had barely anything outside it, save for a single doormat on the floor in front of it, with a checker pattern alternating between white and black. Shifting the heavy load on her shoulder slightly, Ell reached out with her free hand that wasn’t wrapped around Tamara’s waist to turn the doorknob.

It clicked open. Sighing with relief, Ell shuffled indoors, pushing the door shut behind her with her foot.

The only lighting in the room was from a lamp hanging above the coffee table in the room, the small area pushed aside as a makeshift living room. Briefly, Ell wondered why it was still on, and how long it had stayed on, and why there seemed to be a lot of broken objects scattered on the floor, mismatched pieces strayed far from each other.

Never mind that. She had to do something else. Lugging Tamara along with her, she stumbled to the side, where a door led into a bedroom. Fumbling around in the darkness, with only small bits of light from the living room straying into the room to barely light up anything, she eventually located the light switch on the wall.

Light flooded the room as the bulbs flickered to life. A bunk bed took up half the room, blankets and pillows unfolded as they strayed around on the mattresses aimlessly. Tables and shelves filled the rest of the room, cluttered with trinkets and items that didn’t seem to grab at her attention.

Soon, Tamara was spread out over the lower bunk, arms and legs splayed everywhere in her unconscious state. Left with nothing much to do, Ell left the room, switching off the lights on her way out as she shut the door quietly behind her.

As she was walking through the living room, she glanced back at the wreckage of items on the floor. Curiosity got the better of her, leading her to abandon her original path towards the door, instead, veering off to the scattered pile of broken objects lying around uselessly.

It was a guitar. Smashed up, bits and pieces of it everywhere in huge chunks, strings snapped and hanging uselessly from specific parts, a checker pattern on the broken pieces of the body. As she examined the pieces, fiddling with it in her hands, she caught sight of a few photo frames strewn on the floor nearby as well. Dropping the broken chunk of the broken guitar’s neck onto the floor, she picked up one of the nearest frames, hoping to look at the picture inside it.

Behind the cracked glass, she could make out a picture of Tamara, in black and white, her arm slung around the shoulder of someone who looked like her. Her brother, she figured. Even though she’d known Tamara for a while, it wasn’t like she really paid much attention to her brother, especially since he mostly kept to himself. Heck, as her eyes skimmed over every inch of the photo, she even felt somewhat guilty for forgetting what his name even  _ was. _

They looked so cheerful. So different, in comparison to how absolutely  _ drunk  _ Tamara was, and how depressed and upset she was in her own angry, frustrated way.

She dropped the frame back on the ground, shuffling to pick up as many of the broken chunks of the guitar she could. Piling them up, she used her own green hoodie as a makeshift bag for the pieces, as she headed to the door, an idea in mind. Maybe, just maybe, she could fix it. Somehow, glue the pieces back together, use tape, she was determined to do it. Just imagining how Tamara would react when she passed the guitar back to her was enough of a motivation. Well, if Tamara reacted at all.

Maybe they could even play together. Her, on the grand piano in the practice room, as Tamara strummed the strings of the guitar, resting on a chair pulled up nearby to the piano. Drifting off into her thoughts, she could almost hear the strings, the music, the way they rang out loudly-

“Ell?”

She wasn’t imagining it. Jolting back into consciousness, the green-hoodied girl glanced to side, still startled at the loud call of her name.

There was Tamara, staring at her with a weirded out, almost concerned look on her face. Her hands grasped loosely at the guitar resting in her arms, still in one piece after ages and ages of gluing, taping and replacing of broken or missing parts.

It was barely in working condition. Still, the alcoholic stubbornly refused to use other guitars, clinging onto the  _ very  _ worn-out bass that meant so much more to her than she let on.

Anyways.

“You alright?” Her voice, although casual, was laced with bits of concern. Blinking at her, Ell eventually shrugged it off with a laugh. “Ah, I’m alright, Tamara. I was just thinking.”

“About what?” Tamara asked dubiously, inky-black eyes narrowing at her.

Ell dismissed it with a shrug. “Nothing really important right now. Besides, didn’t you want to play with me?”

“Yeah? I’ve been waiting for you to return from fucking dreamland.”

“Well I’m back from there, I guess. Now then!” Opening up the cover, she pulled off the cloth that covered the piano keys. Fingers lightly ghosting over the black and white keys, not quite touching them yet, she stole a glance at Tamara, who was fiddling with the knobs on her guitar.

A nod at her.

Her fingers swept downwards, launching into a melodious song. As the sound of the piano flooded through the room, likely seeping through the closed door and windows to attract people to come listen to the soothing notes that swept everywhere.  The sounds of their instruments blended together in a sweet mix, swirling around the air with occasional hiccups from the slip of their fingers or instrumental fault. Regardless, like they themselves, their harmonies complimented each other almost flawlessly and completed each other's song.

And briefly, Ell felt that they could forget about the invisible shackles that held them down, pulling them to the ground, rooting them in the place. As the song slowed down, Tamara strumming the last few notes as Ell held down piano keys, she looked up from the instrument, smiling at Tamara.

For the first time in a while, her friend grinned back to her, her bitter feeling and resentfulness forgotten in favour of a simple thing.

Music. Simply playing a song with her friend. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've taken time out of your day to read this fic, thank you! i, hope you enjoyed it lmao, more is coming soon i hope (i'm working on getting a buffer up for this fic)
> 
> kudos and comments really do encourage me to write more, especially comments! c: 
> 
> also, if you think i have any errors, or if the characters seem ooc, you can drop a comment and i'll try my best to fix it! (just keep in mind that this is an au though, and things may be different to fit that)


	2. act i.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meetings between a stranger and an alcoholic. also, someone gets cockblocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year! well, over here at least. it's 2017 where i am. and i told myself that i'd update this fic immediately around that time. too bad archive of our own only lets me publish it on the 31st of december 2016 though :c
> 
> now this is. a long chapter (6.2k words, holy shit), and honestly, i'm kinda nervous posting it. i'm really happy about the reception i got from the first chapter (thank you!!) but i'm scared that i'll end up portraying some of these characters as ooc? actually, that's the case for some of them but i'm planning to write it to be more in-character in the next chapter. (still, i'm nervous.)
> 
> ah, i'm rambling. either way, i do hope that you guys enjoy this chapter, despite the possible ooc-ness c:
> 
> (also, shoutout to my beta, netty, for helping me with this. you may not have an ao3 account, but your efforts shall be recognised nonetheless.)

The wind swept through the narrow alleyway, whipping her hair forward as she shut the door behind her, walking towards the metal steps that led to the ground. Sighing, she plopped down onto a step, one hand still clinging to the grey flask in her hand, the liquid sloshing around inside being the only thing that could possibly relieve her from her stress.

 Another hellish day. Constantly moving around, listening to _her,_ and arguing with everyone about everything and what she needed to do on-stage. As her anger grew more intense, she uncapped the flask, a strong, familiar smell hitting her nose.

 She grinned. “Finally.”

 As she brought the flask to her lips, the harsh liquid hitting the back of her throat as she chugged it down, her mind floating back to the events of the day. Listening to everyone else there argue with each other, seeing _her_ stride in like she was the leader of the fucking place, ruler of everyone-

I _t’s technically not wrong though,_ she thought bitterly, pulling the flask down from her mouth. Already, it felt lighter than before, and she silently chided herself for not bringing a bigger flask or even better, an entire bottle of the drink. It would have been _much_ better to bring that rather than a tiny ass bottle that barely contained anything. Why didn’t she do that earlier in the first place?

Oh yeah.

 Ell.

 Her friend had caught her heading to the back of the small block of apartments that connected to the theatre clutching two bottles of alcohol. It wasn’t like Ell to get mad easily, but she sure did disapprove of her consistent drinking. Chuckling to herself, she thought back to the argument they had, over one tiny drink.

" _It’s not a_ tiny _drink, Tamara!” Her friend’s voice was filled with exasperation as she stood in her way, holding one of the two bottles Tamara originally held in her hand, examining it. “And you took the bigger bottles!”_

_"Look, Ell-” Groaning, she reached out, trying to swipe the bottle from Ell, who held it far out of reach of her arms. “I just- I really need a break. Some sort of reliever, a fucking rest-”_

_“And you’re going to take a break through drinking?” Ell cut in, obviously growing more frustrated despite her attempts to tame her anger. Letting out a heavy sigh, she looked at Tamara, who had huffed and glanced down at her black sneakers in stubborn defiance._

_“Look, Tamara,” Ell started, unsure on how to phrase her words. “It’s just, if you really have to drink, can you maybe drink a little less?”_

_“I want to get hammered, Ell.”_

_“Please?” Weakening under Ell’s pleading, Tamara finally relented, letting out a huff. “Fine. But I’m taking my flask.”_

_"Not the big one!” Ell’s voice rang out behind her as she made the climb up the staircase to her apartment to switch out the bottle._

Grumbling to herself, Tamara brought the flask to her lips once more, taking a gulp of the drink inside. Maybe if she drank enough, she’d be able to distract herself from all the aggression pent-up inside of her. Maybe she’d be able to distract herself from the constant internal screaming of death threats towards half the people at the theatre too.

Maybe she’d be able to distract herself from the tugging in her chest, that only grew stronger as she came out here. Even from here, she could still faintly see a pale red line flicker in and out of her line of sight, just at the very end of the alleyway formed by the back of the theatre’s residence and the brick wall of whatever shop was right next to them. The line glowed faintly every time it showed up, occasionally flickering stronger, alternating between being barely seen and as strong as those theatre lights they had that shone down on her during performances.

The tugging in her chest was _still fucking there._

Footsteps sounded on the ground, growing louder the closer they came as she swallowed down the harsh liquid in her mouth again, burning her throat as it went down. As it grew closer, her frustration flared up inside, coupled with curiosity at who it was. It was probably Ell, since she wouldn’t stop worrying about her whenever she went off by herself to drink in a sad little corner.

Pulling the flask from her lips, she glanced upwards, ready to give her green-hoodied friend the death stare of her life.

Instead, her eyes came to rest upon a _very_ pretty ginger, eyes widening upon noticing her glare. She looked nervous, hands clutching at a large bag hanging from her side as she took a step back upon noticing the intensity of the state.

The first thing to shoot into Tamara’s mind was that she should probably stop glaring.

The second thing to shoot into her mind was that the girl had _freckles._

“Ah, hello?” Her voice rang out, startling Tamara out of her thoughts. She had swapped out her earlier nervousness for an awkward smile, attempting to make the situation less uncomfortable and weird. Which just made it more so, unfortunately. She noticed her eyes dart down to look at something in her hand. That something being her flask.

“Are you drinking?” The question was abrupt and out of nowhere and yet, the stranger seemed concerned as she asked it. Letting out a small laugh, Tamara lifted the bottle up to the stranger’s face, watching her nose wrinkle as it caught smell of the pungent scent.

“Yeah,” she drawled, pulling the flask back down to gulp down the remains of what was inside. She could still feel eyes resting on her, the stranger _still_ staring at her like she was some sort of. Stupid person? An embarrassment? A weirdo? Possibilities floated through her mind as she capped the flask, putting it to rest at her side on the metal steps of the staircase that she rested on.

“So, whaddya want?” Already, her words were starting to slur slightly, becoming more casual in tone than before. She continued to stare at the girl in front of her as she waited for a reply, noting some other details about her. Like the way her hair seemed more on the messy side, like she didn’t have the time to brush it thoroughly, leaving it a frizzy mess. And the way that she apparently wore a jacket over a hoodie.

Who wears a jacket over a hoodie? This person, apparently.

“Well, do you work here? At this theatre, I mean.” The question was sort-of expected, if Tamara had to think about it properly. It wasn’t like she was coming here to watch one of those shows, and she certainly didn’t seem like someone who came to negotiate business deals with the person in charge of the theatre. And yet, she also dreaded the question, mainly because people asking that ended up working there.

Which, she decided, looking at the girl as she rambled on into a bunch of unnecessary words about needing a place to stay and something about finding a flyer on the street a few weeks ago, wasn’t something she could allow.

_And yet, who are you to dictate what someone should or shouldn’t do?_ A small voice in her head nagged at her. Groaning internally, she decided to ignore it, propping her head with her hands as she stared up at the freckled face through narrowed eyes.

“So, do you think you could help me out?” The question was posed as the girl finally finished talking, peering down at her worriedly, like she was scared of rejection. Her fingers played with the strap slung over her shoulder that attached to the bag at her side. “Asking people there if I could help out, or something, y’know? I just need a place for a bit while I sort out my stuff.”

A pause. And then-

“Nah,” Tamara replied, grinning.

“Excuse me?” The reply wasn’t angry in tone, it just seemed confused. Unsure. Like Tamara’s reply hadn’t been what she had expected.

Sighing heavily, the alcoholic’s smile slipped off her face. She was _tired._ She wasn’t going to deal with the shit that came with another person joining them all in that hellish place. So as she continued to stare at the person, who clearly seemed uncomfortable about the situation, she decided to ask her the most obvious question so far.

“If you’re looking to work here,” she started, dragging out the syllables of the word slowly, “then why did you try to enter from the back?”

“Well, I thought that if I entered from the front, I’d seem pretty weird. You guys aren’t showing anything right now, no musicals or anything so I thought I’d seem pretty, suspicious? Out of place?”

“Even though people typically enter places through the front door of the building when it comes to professional business-related shit?” Tamara questioned in reply, trying to keep her tone as civil as possible. When there was no reply, she sighed, softening her hard gaze in favour of something that appeared less threatening.

“Look, uh-”

“Matilda.”

“Matilda.” Thank god she got a name, finally. “Trust me when I say, you’d be better off not being here. This place isn't as great as you seem to think it is. There's a lot of shit happening here, and you’d probably be better off elsewhere.”

Matilda’s shoulders relaxed, as she exhaled a deep breath she was probably holding in earlier. Looking at Tamara with a disappointed look on her face, she asked, “Is it really that bad?”

“Yes.”

“I’d be better off elsewhere?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Well, bad doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the worst. Maybe my opinion will be different from yours-”

Cutting the ginger off with a swift swipe of her finger in the air, Tamara narrowed her eyes. “Nope. Trust me, you shouldn’t be here. Go find some shelter nearby, or some cheap motel to stay in. Any where’s better than this place.” When she didn’t get any reply (again), she sighed. “I’m telling you this right now, as a person who stays and works here, you would do way better anywhere else. Now go.”

That seemed to settle it. As Matilda turned around to walk away, out of the narrow alleyway they were in, Tamara waving at her lazily from behind, she stopped.

“I’ll be back.” Those words startled Tamara out of her aimless thoughts about how pretty the ginger looked from behind, her hair, despite being a mess, wafting behind her. As she opened her mouth, about to splutter protests, Matilda added, “If stuff gets worse. I’ll… take your word for it, but if I’m out of options, I’ll be back.”

As the alcoholic watched the strange girl walk off, still clutching the straps of her bag tightly as she walked out of the alleyway, stepping over that line that still stayed there, still flickered in and out and in and out of view and existence-

She focused back on the tugging in her chest. Crap. She had ignored it earlier while talking with Matilda but now, it was back in full force. Grumbling, she grabbed the empty flask from somewhere next to her side as she pushed herself up from the metal steps to head indoors, where the tugging would dull enough for her to ignore it most of the time.

As she turned the doorknob, pushing the door open, she glanced back outside. The alleyway seemed pretty nice. Even if there was that irritating feeling in her chest, it was quiet. A place where she could get away from everyone else in the theatre for a while.

She made a mental note to push aside time to sit there and get drunk properly on a different day.

 

 

 

It was what, the fourth time she had came out here at this point? Or was it the fifth? Shrugging, Tamara shut the door behind her, walking over to slide down onto the familiar steps once more, this time grasping _two_ bottles of alcohol. Ell hadn’t caught her on the way out, so she got the chance to get at least a little tipsy, if she was lucky.

Uncapping the bottle, she grinned wildly, the familiar smell faint in the air and yet, still noticeable.

“Aw, yeah,” she crowed, bringing the bottle to her lips to swallow down the bitter liquid once more. As she swallowed, pulling the bottle away to let it dangle from her fingers, she looked up at the sky and her surroundings.

It wasn’t a horribly hot day. In fact, it was rather cloudy, the white clouds barely visible over the pale blue of the sky. Occasionally, wind would rush through the alleyway, flipping her hair and the hoodie of her jacket wildly. The alleyway itself was rather plain, save for some faded graffiti on the brick wall. The newest one seemed to be a shoddily sprayed dick in neon green, not very detailed and yet, still there.

Someone bought spray paint, went to an alleyway, and chose to paint a dick. Chuckling, she gulped down more of the liquid, ignoring the bitter taste.

She didn’t really know how long she spent there. Normally until she ran out of stuff to drink, or if the tugging in her chest got too irritating to ignore by aimlessly watching the rarely-changing scenery around her.

The alcoholic made a mental note to steal Ell’s art supplies to graffiti the walls nearby the next time she went out there. Not that she was really good at art, but she could always give drawing dicks a shot.

Her eyes drifted to the side, away from the graffiti on the opposite wall to a bobbing head as it grew closer, a person making their way down the alleyway once more. Blinking, Tamara focused, and realised who it was.

Matilda. The ginger had returned, after she told her not to. Stifling a groan, she took a swig of the bitter liquid in the bottle she still clutched as the familiar face walked up to her, footsteps growing faster until eventually, she stood facing Tamara as the actress herself rested on the steps of the staircase.

Awkward silence. She raised an eyebrow at the ginger quizzically, swinging the bottle by her side as she held it in a loose grip. When Matilda glanced away sheepishly, Tamara gestured to her side, shuffling over to lean against the wall so as to make space for another person to sit down.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Tamara replied, watching Matilda as the pretty ginger flashed her a grateful grin, heading over to plop down next to the alcoholic actress. Reaching over, she offered the half-empty bottle of alcohol to her companion, only to be rejected with an awkward smile and a shake of the head.

More alcohol for her then. Taking a gulp of the drink, she swallowed, then gazed over at Matilda, eyes narrowed, before asking, “So, what’re you doing back here again?”

The ginger sighed, scratching the back of her head. “I did say I’d be back if stuff got worse. And I guess it did get worse,” she finished, clasping her hands together tightly. As Tamara watched her, she noticed the way that the ginger fiddled around with her hands, often rubbing her fingers over each other as her hands clutched each other.

“And?” she prompted, pushing Matilda onwards to finish what she was going to say. “You’re not gonna go into detail about the kind of fucking situation you’re stuck in now?”

“Ah, I sorta-” The ginger cut off, turning away to stare at the wall opposite, taking in the sights and graffitied dick instead of facing Tamara. After a long pause, she sighed, before mumbling something under her breath.

“What? Didn’t catch that.”

“I said, I ran out of money!” Matilda repeated, frustration leaking into her voice. “I was stupid, I spent it all too quickly. And now I’m essentially left with no place to go.”

“Money, you say?” Placing the opened bottle with the unopened one where it stood just a little bit away from the wall, Tamara pushed herself up from the steps, stretching as she stood. “Wait here,” she stated, ignoring Matilda’s protest as she twisted the doorknob of the door nearby, pushing it open.

Shutting the door behind her, she made her way towards the staircase heading upwards to where everyone stayed, each in their own little apartment, often with multiple people rooming together. Except instead of getting off at the second floor, she continued climbing upwards, heading for the fourth floor instead. The fourth floor, where a certain someone stayed.

That certain someone probably had money to spare.

_Eh, I’ll just give her my own shit if she doesn’t have anything to spare,_ Tamara thought, shrugging as she walked down the hallway, stopping at a door just to the right of the apartment that was right in the middle. Potted plants laid outside, all somewhat wilting slowly, the leaves browning as the flowers crumpled up. A red bowl, half-filled with brown pellets, laid just to the side of the door, lined alongside the potted plants.

Twisting the doorknob, Tamara prayed that it was unlocked.

And it was. Grinning to herself, she pushed the door open, revealing a messy living room, junk and clothes thrown over a worn-out red couch that faced an old television, just opposite of it, hanging out on a table. Shutting the door behind her, Tamara walked into the apartment, taking in the details of the place.

Like how there was a _lot_ of clothes thrown on the couch. Deciding against calling out Ell’s name to check if she was here, Tamara headed for her bedroom instead, stopping by the bathroom to check if the brunette was inside.

She wasn’t unfortunately. The bathroom was a strange contrast to the rest of the house, relatively cleaner than the pile of shit that was the living room. Darting out of the bathroom, she turned, heading for the bedroom instead.

Tamara really should have called out for Ell’s name when she still could. Opening the door led to not just one, but _two_ overlapping voices screaming at her to get the _fuck_ out and that she should have knocked first.

She shut the door as fast as she could. Perched on the stood at the kitchen counter in the small area Ell left as a kitchen in her house, her eyes followed the bedroom door as it opened, revealing a _very_ pissed Ell, covered with just an oversized green hoodie, who stomped over to the alcoholic in her kitchen as soon as she shut the wooden door behind her.

“Look, I didn’t mean to-”

“You should have knocked,” Ell interrupted, cutting off Tamara, who held her hands up in defence of herself. “You, should have knocked,” Ell repeated, poking a finger at Tamara aggressively. “How did you even _get_ in here? You don’t have a key!”

“The front door was unlocked.”

“The front door was unlocked-?” Swearing under her breath, Ell sighed heavily, covering her face with one hand. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. She forgot to lock it.”

“So, are you even gonna listen to why I came or?” Tamara questioned, watching her friend mutter pissed words to herself. “I’m kind of in a bit of a hurry here.”

Ell turned back to look at her, stuffing her hands inside the pockets of her hoodie. “Yeah?”

“I need money.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Don’t you have- you know what, just take it,” Ell decided, heading over to a shelf near the messy sofa in the room to grab a jar stuffed with colourful notes. “Just get out of my house. I don’t have time for this, you _interrupted_ me.”

“Thanks,” Tamara drawled, as Ell shoved several notes at her. Grasping the precious papers in her hand, she headed out of her friend’s house, shutting the door behind her. She swore she could hear a click as she was walking away, possibly her friend _finally_ locking her door for once.

God, on the list of things she didn’t want to deal with today, walking into her friend doing the do with _her_ was added to it. Not something she expected, but still not a very pleasant surprise. Wincing at the mental image forever scarred into her mind, she walked down the staircase, hopping from the second-last step after every flight, feet touching down safely on the landing after each jump.

Eventually, she found herself closing the same back door behind her once more, alerting Matilda, who was still there, to her presence. Wordlessly, she walked over to the ginger, sticking out a hand with the dollar notes still clenched tightly in her fist.

God bless Ell for having connections that often landed her with more money than the others.

“Here,” she grunted, as Matilda stared at her, eyes flicking between the money in her hand and her face. The expression on the ginger’s face was pure disbelief, as she shifted away from Tamara.

“I can’t accept that!” she protested, causing Tamara to stuff her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. Shrugging, the alcoholic turned around, heading back to the door with a simple “Alright,” directed towards Matilda.

As her hand rested on the doorknob, about to turn it and open the door once more, she heard a shout of “W-wait!” from behind her. Tamara paused, smirking at Matilda's predictable reaction. Concealing her smug expression, she turned on her heel to stare at Matilda again, tilting her head slightly towards her.

“A-actually, I changed my mind!” Matilda declared, looking away from Tamara. Did she feel too awkward to make eye contact? Whatever the reason was, it didn’t really matter in the end. Tamara went over, dropping the wad of cash into Matilda’s lap as the ginger scrambled to her feet, getting up from the staircase. As she clutched the money in her hands, staring at it incredulously, Tamara shuffled back towards her usual position, flopping down to rest on the steps once more.

As her hand wrapped around the neck of the already-opened bottle of alcohol once more, she stared up at Matilda, who _finally_ decided to glance back at her, trying to read her face for any trace of a hidden motive behind giving her the money. Her expression was still questioning, confused at why a person who had only met her _once,_ a person she didn’t even know the name of, would give her money.

“Y’know what I want in return for that?” Tamara questioned, eliciting a shake of the head from Matilda. Narrowing her eyes, her gaze bore into Matilda, scrutinising every part of her as if something would give away the answer she was looking for.

Awkward silence filled the air, only to be broken by Tamara with a sharp “Don’t come back,” as she got up from the steps again. Turning to face the door, she pushed it open, listening to the shuffling of feet behind her as Matilda likely got up to leave. Entering the door, she shut it behind her, leaning against it.

Sighing heavily, she drifted back into her thoughts. Like how Matilda came in from the back, how she was pretty rude at the end, the way Matilda looked scruffier than before, and how she had left an entire bottle of alcohol outside near the wall at the steps.

Fuck. Groaning, she mentally slapped herself, the half-empty bottle still swinging from her hand.

She should probably go and get that later.

 

 

 

As the days passed, Tamara often found herself hanging out by the steps outside more often, making time to go out and aimlessly sit around on the metal staircase, often accompanied by at least her flask of alcohol, if she didn’t manage to grab a bottle with her on her way out.

Honestly, she herself didn’t really know why she sat outside so much. Maybe it was the time she got for herself away from everyone else, the peace and quiet that she couldn’t get around most of the other areas of the theatre.

_But if that’s the case, then why don’t I just camp out inside my room?_

Or maybe it was because despite her harsh words, she felt like looking out for a certain ginger again. Maybe it was the fact that despite Tamara spitting at her not to come back after she gave her the money, Matilda would still return, often after several days. Maybe it was because she would raise her eyebrows as the familiar figure walked up to her, putting down her drink as she pushed herself up from the staircase.

Maybe it was because she had taken it upon herself to reject Matilda’s attempts to try and persuade her way into the theatre.

_Being vague probably isn’t helping her to stay away, you absolute fuck. She’s just going to think it’s not that bad._

Anyways.

It sort of became a repetitive pattern. Hang out at the back every day despite the weather, get started on drinking the alcohol she snuck out before Ell showed up with that disapproving stare of her’s, and watch almost nothing enter the alleyway except for the occasional familiar face that she soon turned away.

She also gained a crippling debt towards Ell. Speaking of which, the debt that Ell herself was trying to discuss with her about. As she rested her head in her arms, listening to Ell ramble on about monetary issues, her mind wandered through her memories, through the small conversations she’d often have with that familiar ginger who kept on coming back stubbornly despite everything she kept saying-

“Tamara!” Jolting out of her thoughts with a startled yelp, Tamara glared at Ell, who had slammed her hands on the kitchen table, staring down at her.

She didn’t seem mad though. That was a plus, she told herself, as her friend let out a sigh, about to launch back into speech.

Except that she didn’t. Instead of sweeping back into the subject of owing each other money, Ell blinked at her friend, face concerned. “Are you alright?”

After a moment’s pause, Tamara glanced away from Ell, mumbling “I’m fine.” A pair of eyes continued to rest on her, until eventually they glanced away as Ell continued pacing around the kitchen, this time opening Tamara’s many cupboards, the wood creaking as she opened their doors in search of something. Whatever she was looking for, Tamara didn’t really know what it was.

It wasn’t like she really stocked her place with much food anyways. Mostly, she just lived off the many cartons of instant noodles Ell often stocked in her kitchen.

“It’s raining today,” Ell commented, shutting the wooden door of one cupboard only to open another. Shifting to glance over her shoulder, Tamara saw that what Ell said was true – it _was_ raining outside, drops of water streaking against the glass of her living room windows. It didn’t seem to be a storm though, rather, it just seemed to be a drizzle of rain.

“You’re not gonna go out today?” Ell asked from where she stood, hands sifting through the barely-touched cans of food in Tamara’s cupboard. “Also, you really need to stock up on more food. You barely have anything to eat in here.”

“I have cereal.”

Ell snorted, slamming the cupboard door shut. “You barely even _eat_ it. You always like to barge in my apartment every other day, _especially_ on days when I’m making bacon.”

“What can I say?” Tamara grinned at Ell, who had moved on to inspecting the contents of her fridge before reaching in to pull out a red can. “It’s not like I have a shit ton of variety in the stuff I have to eat. Better to steal food from my friend than choke down cereal every day.”

Ell slid into the chair in front of Tamara, clutching a can of coke. “You still haven’t really answered my question though. The going out thing, I mean. What do you even do out there?”

“Eh.” Tamara shrugged, waving her hand around aimlessly. “Just drink, mostly. Occasionally draw dicks on the wall nearby.”

“Wait – did you steal my art stuff?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, goddammit,” Ell groaned, facepalming as Tamara pushed back her chair, getting up from her seat. Stretching, she sighed. “Time to get out of here.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” she drawled, walking up to the door. “Gonna sit outside in the rain for a bit. Maybe I can get sick while I’m at it.”

“You really do spend a lot of time out there,” Ell remarked, shuffling out of her chair to follow behind her, finding no reason to lurk around in her friend’s apartment if she was going to leave. As Tamara heard the door click behind her, she headed down the hallway, Ell following behind, mumbling something about how Tamara didn’t lock the door.

Eh, it wasn’t like she was going to leave for a long time. As they parted ways, Ell giving a slight wave of her hand towards Tamara as she began the climb up the staircase to get back to her apartment, Tamara made her way down the stairs instead, hopping off the second-last step like she always did whenever she wasn’t heavily intoxicated.

She could feel that something was wrong before she even stepped outside. A weird gut feeling that clawed at her as she went up the now-familiar door, twisting the doorknob to push through the door.

The rain was just a light drizzle now, the small slope over her head barely covering her. Pulling her hood over her head, she glanced around, feeling like something was different.

And then she noticed her. Matilda, the familiar ginger girl who stubbornly returned frequently despite her attempts to push her away from the place, was resting on the steps, hugging her bag to her chest, hood pulled over her head to provide minimal shelter that wasn’t even all that effective in the end.

“It’s pretty wet, isn’t it?” Watching as Matilda turned to glance up at her, startled by her sudden appearance, Tamara walked over to the familiar ginger, staring at the rain as it splashed down on the floor of the alleyway, forming puddles where the path dipped downwards. For a while, they watched the rain come down in silence, but when Matilda _still_ didn’t reply, Tamara sighed.

Straight to the point then.

“I thought I told you not to come back here.” At that, Matilda shifted her gaze from the many puddles of water, rain constantly pattering into them at a consistent rate, to Tamara’s face. She looked tired, rather than nervous and determined like she had been the past several meetings. And yet she still didn’t reply.

When Tamara turned around to head to the door though, that’s when Matilda spoke.

“Wait.” Tamara paused, hand hovering over the doorknob as she heard the ginger speak out, asking for her to stop. To pause for a while. Turning around, the alcoholic glanced at the ginger as she heaved a sigh, before she spoke.

“This needs to stop.”

“This, as in?” Gesturing to Matilda, Tamara narrowed her eyes. “I told you not to come back here. It’s only your stubbornness that causes _this_ , apparently, to continue.”

“I don’t mean that,” Matilda snapped, anger finally getting the better of her. “I mean you treating me like I’m some sort of charity case. Giving me small bits of money, only enough to live on for a couple of days before I’m out of options and keep coming back. Do you think I come here just to get money from you? Do you think I’m _that_ pathetic?”

“Well, what else do you want me to fucking _do_?” Tamara retorted, frustration seeping in. “I keep telling you, it’s better to go elsewhere. Go get a fucking job somewhere else, get a house or something, just stop fucking coming back here!”

“Well, maybe it hasn’t occurred to you that I _have_ been trying to get a fucking job?” Matilda spat, shoving the bag to the side to stand up, turning to face Tamara. Her expression was _furious,_ eyebrows narrowed, gritting her teeth as the two stared at each other, both refusing to back down. “But maybe it’s also the fact that I’m homeless, apparently? I don’t have any place to stay? And that this place, however bad you may seem to vaguely imply it is, apparently has both of the things that I _need_?”

“Fucking stop-”

“Oh no, _you_ stop,” Matilda snarled, stepping up to poke a finger at Tamara’s chest. “You keep going on and on about how I shouldn’t come back here, how it’s a horrible place, when you _won’t even tell me what’s so horrible about this place._ ” When Tamara didn’t reply, she pressed further. “If this place is so bad, then what’s so _bad_ about it? Why don’t you tell me that then?”

Silence. The rain continued to drip down, pattering onto the ground from the clouds drifting by slowly in the sky. Matilda took a step back, shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie as she waited for Tamara’s reply, eyes narrowed at her.

And Tamara didn’t have anything to say. Raking her hand through her hair, she tried to think of something to say, trying to find a solution to the situation that didn’t end up resorting to her giving in to the ginger.

But then again, it wasn’t like she could just tell her what was so bad about the place. It wasn’t like she could just blurt out everything regarding pretty much her entire life there and expect nothing to happen as a result.

And it wasn’t like Matilda would believe her if she said it anyways.

Not to mention that her mind had blanked out on her. She couldn’t think of an excuse good enough to keep the ginger away temporarily, let alone for good.

Essentially, Matilda had won.

“Alright.” As the words came out of her mouth, she watched Matilda relax, anger replaced by confusion. Tamara sighed, staring at the ground as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say.

“I’ll let you in,” Tamara started, glancing up to watch the confusion on Matilda’s face fade away, giving way to something else. A surprised expression, perhaps?

“But,” Tamara added, watching Matilda carefully, “I won’t let you take a job here. Before you try to argue with me, I’m only letting you stay with me because my friend’s sick and tired of me taking money from her, and it’s not like anyone will really know that you’re hiding in my place.”

Matilda blinked. “You took money from your friend?”

“You choose to focus on that instead of literally anything else I said? I’m fucking astonished,” Tamara remarked, watching as Matilda bent down to pick up her bag, pulling the strap over her shoulder. “Either way, I really hope that you don’t fuck this up for me. I’m only letting you stay until you sort your shit out.”

Watching as Matilda nodded, a determined look on her face, a small sense of dread crept into Tamara as the tugging on her chest grew stronger, almost unbearable as she watched the ginger look hopeful, more hopeful than she had ever been in the past few days.

But as she turned around, heading to the door, expecting Matilda to follow, she heard Matilda call out after her.

“Hold on.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as the ginger walked up to her, waiting behind her with a questioning look on her face.

“You never told me your name.”

“I didn’t?” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could think them through. Watching Matilda shoot her a sheepish smile, she mentally slapped herself. What kind of a person gave money to a stranger without even giving them a _name_ to work with?

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Matilda replied, seemingly humoured by the whole thing. “All this time I’ve been coming here to meet the edgy human ATM machine who gave me money regularly and forbade me from getting a job.”

Was that a trace of laughter in her voice? Feeling her cheeks heat up, Tamara focused on the doorknob in front of her, attempting to swallow down the awkward feelings that rose up in her due to her forgetfulness.

The rain poured down now, heavier than ever. The faint rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance as Tamara hesitated, fingers clenching down on the doorknob. But before she turned it-

“It’s Tamara.”

She finally said it. Her name. Opening the door, she glanced inside, eyes flitting from left to right to check if anyone was nearby, anyone who could take note of her sneaking in a stranger without telling them.

“Tamara, huh? That’s a pretty name.”

The tugging on her chest almost seemed to grow stronger, more noticeable than before, upon hearing that reply. Just what was bringing Matilda into the place going to cause? If she was lucky, they’d get out of it without any complications, the ginger possibly leaving as soon as she managed to sort out whatever complications she was going through.

But knowing her luck, it wouldn’t be as easy as that.

Taking in a deep breath, she turned to glance at Matilda, who looked determined. Maybe there was still that trace of nervousness in her eyes, but she seemed ready, unlike Tamara, who simply felt uneasy.

“Alright then,” she said, gesturing for Matilda to follow her.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the process of writing this was basically me attempting to summon my beta into a small group chat by screaming in all caps while my friend watches on. also, me procrastinating writing for this fic because of animal crossing. rip buffer, you will be missed.
> 
> kudos and comments are still really appreciated! especially comments, because they tell me how people feel about this fic :0 also, if you notice errors or if any characters seem _extremely_ ooc, please do let me know!
> 
>  
> 
> also, slight side note but chapters may be a little less frequent from now on since school will be reopening soon, and boy, i will be _swamped_ with lots of work to do and too little time. my goal for now is to try to update this once a month, though i may update more if i'm not so busy c: we'll see!


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